


angels in the new age

by plinys



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore
Genre: Femslash February, Femslash February Trope Bingo, POV Second Person, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a girl staring down the barrel of a gun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	angels in the new age

**Author's Note:**

> I tried something experimental with this and I'm not 100% sure that I like it especially since it ended up so short, but I'm posting it anyways. 
> 
> This fills the "reincarnation" square on my femtrope bingo card.

There’s a girl staring down the barrel of a gun.

Pulled out in front of the crowd during a hostage situation.

With wide eyes and shaking hands she pleads for anything but this.

She trembles, gasping out meaningless words, “please don’t” and “I’m supposed to be getting married” and “I’ve got so much left to live for” words that mean nothing to the men in charge.

They never do.

It’s a matter of circumstance.

She had lost this battle long before she was even born.

Even you can’t change that.

*

There’s a girl staring down the barrel of a gun.

And you’ve been here before.

Too many times to count.

There’s a sequined dress, the taste of forbidden liquor on swollen lips, a body falling to the ground in a smoke filled room.

There’s a castle made of stone, a woman drowning in a dress, a knife pressed to her throat while a revolution brews.

There’s a sickness clawing at her lungs, fire beneath her feet, assurances that and end will soon come whispering into nearly deaf ears.

All of their faces look the same, staring up at you and begging for absolution.

Lives upon lives. Lived and lost.

There’s temple built in your name, upon an alter where she lays her unwilling head.

(It’s then that you move.)

A saving grace in an otherwise hopeless place.

They’ll tell about it in the news later, the burst of blinding light – speculating mortals will come up with excuses and explanations, never believing what is so clearly before their eyes – the only mark you leave behind in this world.

You have long since given up on mortals.

The lot of them are left behind, considered a lost cause, forgetting their real gods to praise false idols and reflections of their own faults.

Except for her.

The exception to your only rule.

You’ll pluck her out of her life, press heavenly fingers to her brow, just to hear her call your “her goddess” one last time.

Before setting her down among the roses, an island of her own to live till the end of her days, voice lifting in praise to you until she can no longer make a sound.

For her days will always end, the curse of a mortal life that even you cannot stop.

Not for lack of trying.

On those lonely nights you ask yourself the questions that plague your eternal mind.

How many times will you save this wretched girl?

How many times must you watch as she calls out to the heavens asking for someone to take her away from this cruel world?

How many times more will you stand there battling with yourself while her life is on the line?

How many times can you make the same mistake?

*

There’s a girl starring down the barrel of a gun.

And you ask yourself, if it is really worth losing her all over again.  

 


End file.
